


Still, With Hearts Beating

by FinAmour



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alley Sex, And think about the porn, But let's just ignore that fact, Finger Sucking, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hiding, I'm just warning you, Johnlock Roulette, Kissing, M/M, Neck Kissing, No Dialogue, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Pure Porn, Really No Plot, Rutting, Semi-Public Sex, Sex in the Dark, Sherlock's Mouth, Sherlock’s neck, Silence Kink, Smut, The criminals are really idiots, Until afterwards, enclosed spaces
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-28 20:55:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13912053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FinAmour/pseuds/FinAmour
Summary: John already knows the sound of Sherlock’s heartbeat. He’s become familiar with his breathing patterns, the way they grow quicker and more shallow as the two of them run through the streets of London. He has, in a passing manner, come to know Sherlock’s scent; the colour of his skin in the dim light of the alleyway; the way his hair grows matted and sweaty against the nape of his neck on a warm July night.But he has never been pressed up against Sherlock like this, the rise and fall of his breath pushing into his own body through their thin summer clothes. Until now, he has never been fully immersed in his scent, felt his hair softly brushing his face, the thrumming of Sherlock’s heart against his own chest.





	Still, With Hearts Beating

John already knows the sound of Sherlock’s heartbeat. He’s become familiar with his breathing patterns, the way they grow quicker and more shallow as the two of them run through the streets of London. He has, in a passing manner, come to know Sherlock’s scent; the colour of his skin in the dim light of the alleyway; the way his hair grows matted and sweaty against the nape of his neck on a warm July night.

But he has never been pressed up against Sherlock like this, the rise and fall of his breath pushing into his own body through their thin summer clothes. Until now, he has never been fully immersed in his scent, felt his hair softly brushing his face, the thrumming of Sherlock’s heart against his own chest.

With the sound of their hearts pumping so loudly, as footsteps approach, John is almost positive that they are going to be found. 

They both stand, jammed into this tiny, hot space, tucked in the corner at the dead end of an alleyway. He isn’t even sure what to call it- it must have been, at one point, a storage unit of some kind. In any case, it seems a better alternative to being caught by a trio of very large, very angry criminals.

Betting on total silence and the fortuitous casting of shadows to keep them from being caught, the two wait, silent and still, their bodies packed tightly together. Sherlock’s forehead is resting lightly against the wall, arms pinned up to his sides, palms forward. John is behind him, his own arms tucked underneath both of Sherlock’s, chin digging into the back of Sherlock’s left shoulder.

The footsteps come closer, and John hears a voice call out. “Shit! It’s a dead end! Where did they go?”

“They can’t have gone too far,” another responds. “Let’s keep going.”

John holds back a sigh of relief.

“No,” one of the voices says. “Let’s split up. You two stay here. If they come this way, it will be easier to trap them. I’ll keep searching. If I don’t find anything, I’ll meet you back here.”

And John hears the man run off.

Damn. He and Sherlock are going to be hiding in here for a while, and it’s already becoming cramped, uncomfortable, and unbearably hot.

He begins to feel his arms go numb from his positioning, so he readjusts them in an attempt to gain circulation. But this only serves to pull Sherlock back and down, until John’s chin is resting on the space between Sherlock’s neck and shoulder. Sherlock is surprisingly relaxed and unresisting as his lower body is repositioned even more tightly into his.

As their upper bodies move simultaneously through quiet inhalations and exhalations, John begins to notice the humidness of his own breath against Sherlock’s neck. He tries to resist the urge to think about how close it is. He tries not to concentrate on the dips and the curves of it; the impossibly smooth, fair skin; the way his Adam’s apple bobs each time he swallows. He tries not to think about the sweat glistening on his flesh, and how, with the slightest movement, he might be able to taste it.

But since that’s the only thing he can seem to focus on, he simply twists his eyes shut. This does nothing, however, to dull the sensation of Sherlock’s body, heated and tangible, wearing only a silk shirt and thin cotton trousers.

And he knows he shouldn’t even be thinking about how much this is turning him on. He shouldn’t be thinking about the things he wants to do to Sherlock right now, not only because he’s his friend and flatmate, but because he doesn’t want them to get caught. So as they remain still for long moments, every inch of his consciousness screams at him to get a grip, to control himself.

But suddenly, Sherlock begins to shift. John opens his eyes and blinks, and as he does, Sherlock carefully tilts his head sideways, dropping his shoulder back and deliberately exposing his bare neck.

This is John’s undoing.

Unable to resist the temptation, John cautiously turns his head towards Sherlock, parts his lips, and exhales a hot breath against Sherlock’s skin. Sherlock reacts by sucking in a swift inhalation. Exhaling shakily, he tilts his head upwards to reveal his neck even further, and it is spotted with the unmistakable pink flush of arousal.

John leans in and very lightly touches his parted, pliant lips to Sherlock’s neck. He holds them there, unmoving for several seconds, tickling Sherlock’s skin with his breath.

Sherlock shivers at this, swallowing thickly, and John’s blood is singing in his ears. He begins to move his lips lazily from side to side, dusting them against Sherlock’s neck. And he knows he should be thinking about the repercussions of it all, but his maddening, gorgeous flatmate begins to emit tiny, muted gasps, and he can’t seem to care about much else. So he continues to explore the terrain of Sherlock’s neck, tracing patterns with only a brush of his lips.

After several torturous, teasing moments of this, he pulls Sherlock down a bit more, tilting his head up towards his ear. He lingers there for a few seconds before exhaling another quiet, slow, hot breath onto it, his tongue ghosting his earlobe. Then, without warning, he pushes his tongue out and glides it wetly against Sherlock’s jawbone.

And Sherlock breaks the silence, bursting out a shuddering sigh.

Oh, shit.

John quickly pulls away, reflexively bringing his right hand up to cup Sherlock’s mouth, and he freezes.

“Did you hear that?” one of the voices says.

“Nope,” the other replies.

Sherlock and John remain still and hushed, their pulses skyrocketing. After a few seconds pass, and they seem to be safe, John rests his head back on Sherlock’s shoulder. He knows they should probably stop, because if they continue, they are definitely going to get caught. But these thoughts subside as Sherlock works his left hand around to the back of John’s head, roughly pulling his mouth onto his neck, urging him to continue.

John is in no position to argue.

Sherlock slides his fingers through John’s hair, tugging at it impatiently. So John parts his lips again, beginning to plant open mouthed kisses up and down his neck. Eventually, he lets his tongue peek out more and more, just a tiny bit at first- an afterthought of the kisses. But then he allows it to slide out, running up against Sherlock’s skin in straight lines. Sherlock clutches more tightly to his hair as he emits small, unvoiced whimpers.

As John becomes more and more intensely aroused by Sherlock’s muted responses, his tongue begins to gain a mind of its own- extending in and out, sliding and rolling up and down and in circular motions, greedily tasting the glorious flesh. Sherlock pushes John’s mouth impossibly closer to him, craving more and more, so John complies, working the area more roughly, lightly biting, sucking, and leaving small purple marks on his skin.

John can feel Sherlock’s body becoming needy, writhing, wanting, and he is no better off himself. So, securing his grip over Sherlock’s mouth to stifle his reaction, he begins to roll his hips forward into Sherlock’s backside. Sherlock moans into the palm of John’s hand, followed by an arch backwards as he meets John’s now aching erection with a responding push of his own.

The feeling is so good that John has to bury his face into the crook of Sherlock’s neck to stifle a moan himself. He drops his left hand to Sherlock’s hip to steady their movements, and Sherlock pushes his right hand into the wall to stabilise himself. They continue to silently rut against one another, in a jagged pattern at first, until they fall into a steady rhythm. Sherlock presses back on to John’s rock hard, thinly clothed cock, and John meets each movement by bucking his hips, continuing to bruise and ruin Sherlock’s neck with his mouth.

This silent dance continues for several minutes; John’s erection throbbing, the raggedness of Sherlock’s hushed breaths proof that he’s just as far gone. Sherlock reaches one hand back and down, fumbling towards John’s zipper. It’s too far of a reach, though, so John stops for a moment and takes Sherlock’s hand into his. In an unexpected gesture of tenderness, Sherlock places his hand above John’s and laces their fingers together. John drops his forehead onto the back of Sherlock’s shoulder and looks down at his hand, squeezing it as if to say, “Are you okay?”

Sherlock squeezes back reassuringly.

So, keeping Sherlock’s hand on his, John slides both of their hands toward the front of Sherlock’s trousers, fingers spread, to cup Sherlock’s erection. Sherlock’s breath hitches, his cock twitching at the touch. John glides their hands up and down for a few seconds before tugging at the zipper, pulling it down. He reaches in to pull Sherlock’s cock from his pants. The tip is drenched in precome, and John moves his thumb over it slowly, smearing the clear liquid around the shaft. Then, with their hands still joined, John wraps his fingers around it and begins to slide up and down steadily.

This causes Sherlock to squirm uncontrollably, and, unexpectedly, he bites down on John’s hand to contain a moan of pleasure. The bite startles John, though, and, releasing his grip on Sherlock with both hands, he lets out a tiny yelp of pain.

They freeze again.

“Who’s there?” One of the voices calls out. “I know I heard something!”

“It’s nothing,” the other one said. “You’re just hearing shit.”

John and Sherlock hold their breath for several seconds, frozen, quiet, until Sherlock’s sides begin to convulse in silent laughter. John rolls his eyes and frivolously plants his teeth on Sherlock’s neck, seeking revenge. He bites down gently, and when Sherlock doesn‘t stop laughing, he bites harder. Sherlock’s laughter halts, and his hips involuntarily arch back again. Playfully, he sticks his tongue out, rolling it against John’s palm, and John’s hand flinches at the touch. But as he pulls his hand away, his fingers graze against Sherlock’s wet, plump lips, and it feels oddly sensual. Intrigued, he pauses, and as he does, Sherlock pokes his tongue out again, sliding it over his index finger.

John inhales sharply, continuing to curiously run his index finger over Sherlock’s sinful mouth as Sherlock opens it slowly, allowing him to slide the tip partially in. John pauses again, and Sherlock takes a moment to drag his tongue and lips over it before he begins to lick and suck, taking it slowly in, and God, this feels dirty, but Sherlock’s mouth is incredible, and it also feels so, so good.

Continuing to rut his hips against Sherlock, John extends his middle finger to join the first, and Sherlock wraps his lips around it enthusiastically. John clenches his eyes shut as he begins to glide both fingers in and out, slowly and deliberately at first, exploring the hollows of Sherlock’s inner cheeks. Sherlock can’t seem to get enough of this, sucking and running his tongue over them eagerly. So John begins to slide them in and out faster and faster, holding back stifled grunts as he all but uses his fingers to fuck Sherlock’s wet, hot, gorgeous mouth.

And John doesn’t want to stop, but he realises that both of their erections are becoming further neglected. He pulls his fingers from Sherlock’s mouth, reaches down and quickly unzips his own trousers. His cock bobs out, hard, aching and drenched, and Sherlock impatiently presses onto it with his backside.

John then refocuses his attention on Sherlock, wrapping his hand around him and stroking him more vigorously. Sherlock rolls backward with more force, hips grinding back and forth between John’s groin and hand, and the sensation of his own cock, unclothed, against Sherlock’s backside is enough to make John completely undone.

But then, Sherlock does something that threatens to completely drive him over the edge. In one swift motion, Sherlock’s tilts his head backwards and rotates it toward him, and before John can blink, Sherlock pushes John’s face into his, taking his mouth into a bruising, passionate kiss.

There is nothing graceful about it. Their mouths open immediately, tongues sliding and lips smearing and teeth fiercely knocking together. John moves his right hand up to clutch onto Sherlock’s curls, pulling him in and deepening the kiss even further as he continues to push his naked cock into Sherlock’s thinly clothed backside.

He isn’t going to last much longer. The feeling of Sherlock’s lips, his hair, the sound of his tiny, breathy whimpers is driving him mad. As his orgasm approaches, he pulls his right hand down to wrap it around his own cock, and with three clumsy strokes, he is finished. His hips and legs quiver almost violently as he comes hard into his hand, the world around him fading out, his moan bitten off by Sherlock’s mouth on his.

Sherlock doesn’t break his mouth away, kissing him messily as his movements speed up, signifying that he is close to orgasm as well. John responds by burying his mouth into his, stroking Sherlock harder, moving his hand faster and faster. Sherlock’s entire body tenses abruptly as he bites down on John’s lip, choking back the groan that he can’t control. His hips jerk harshly forward, his cock pulsing in John’s hand as hot, thick semen spills onto the wall in front of them.

At that moment, the fact that they are still in the presence of dangerous criminals seems extremely unimportant.

Even coming down from the high of their climax, they continue to kiss lazily, winding their tongues together as their heartbeats slow. And as they finally pull apart, John tucks his face into Sherlock’s shoulder, closing his eyes, needing a moment to collect himself.

When he opens his eyes, he finds Sherlock gazing back at him. He doesn’t speak, but John can read exactly what he’s thinking.

_Interesting._

John smiles and nods. _Interesting in a good way._

Sherlock furrows his brow, eyes traveling up and down John’s face, and then his expression softens. _Yes._

John lets his head fall back onto Sherlock’s shoulder once more as he wipes his hands on the wall behind him. After reaching down to zip up his trousers, he winds his arms around Sherlock's waist in an undeniably romantic embrace. Sherlock tenses for a moment, but then sighs approvingly as he relaxes, leaning back into John.

And they silently wait.

After a few minutes pass, footsteps approach again. The third criminal calls out. “Any luck?”

“No. You?”

“Nope. Guess we’re gonna have to call it,” one of them says.

The first criminal sighs. “Bullshit,” he yells. “If I ever see that weird looking guy with the curly hair and his short friend again, I’ll give them exactly what they deserve.”

John and Sherlock giggle at this comment as the three criminals walk off.

After a minute, Sherlock finally speaks. “They’re gone,” he says. “We can go now.”

“Mm,” John responds, kissing the middle of Sherlock’s back. “But do we really have to?”

“John,” Sherlock sighs in feigned annoyance. “It’s far too hot in here, and I’m afraid you are beginning to reek of body odour.” He pushes an elbow against him. “Go.”

John laughs. “Yeah, I suppose it's gotten quite sweaty in here,” he teases. Sherlock presses his lips together, but he can’t hide a grin.

“I’ll go first to observe our surroundings,” John says, and wriggles himself out into the alleyway.

After surveying the area, he calls back to Sherlock. “We’re safe,” he says. “You can-“ But before he finishes the sentence, he is being spun around and pinned back against the alley wall. He grunts in surprise, wondering for a second if he is being attacked, but he looks up only to see Sherlock.

Sherlock moves his legs so that they are trapping John’s, and leans into him, bringing his face close to John’s ear.

“I believe that we are going to need to do THAT again,” he utters, and John shivers at the sound of his voice.

Sherlock smirks before taking John’s hands and pinning them above his head on the wall. John groans, looking up into Sherlock’s eyes, and finds himself wanting to kiss the smirk right off of him. So that’s what he does.

And Sherlock kisses back, hungrily, until John has to pull himself away. “Oh my god… Sherlock,” he says, gasping. “I’d really like to take you home so we can do this properly.”

Sherlock stares at him, feigning innocence. “Are you telling me that having sex while hiding in a dark alleyway during a chase isn’t ‘doing it properly’?”

John laughs, considering this for a moment. “Erm, well, I guess it probably is for us, isn’t it?”

Sherlock smiles. “Indeed. And thankfully, I happen to know plenty of other dangerous criminals we can piss off.”

**Author's Note:**

> The title was taken from the song "Still" by Daughter. It's one of my favorite songs and always reminds me of John and Sherlock.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Cover] Still, With Hearts Beating](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14290974) by [allsovacant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allsovacant/pseuds/allsovacant)
  * [Still, With Hearts Beating Podfic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15427506) by [potentiallyAWKWARD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/potentiallyAWKWARD/pseuds/potentiallyAWKWARD)




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